long ago I witnessed my father and mother fight;
having escaped detection, so they thought –
united in a kind of love quarrel –
like the ones who’s spontaneous impulses cannot be kept at bay.
like the one who is part of the solution.
my father stuck his foolish face out to be kissed,
in an act of feign bravery,
my mother drove him back – it hardly mattered,
having observed such a deliberate display of affection,
down to the shrill laughter
of her appeal.